


Fawnlock and the Cottage-dwelling John Watson

by Calicir



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fawnlock, Fluff, Gen, but he has a good heart, fawnlock is a stubborn git, i guess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-08
Updated: 2013-04-09
Packaged: 2017-12-07 20:44:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/752900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calicir/pseuds/Calicir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Watson has never encountered anything this bizarre in the forest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Something, or someone, must have broken his window. This was the red flag that told John that something truly was following him back home. He remembered seeing a trail of hoof prints in the chunky cold snow somewhere near his cottage, but he assumed it was just an animal roaming around. Now he knew something could be planning to assault him. He doesn’t feel safe at home any more.

John grew more cautious ever since then, as if he weren’t already cautious to begin with. He carried a loaded pistol and fighting knife with him everywhere he went (well, almost everywhere) and looked behind his back often. One can never be too paranoid. Oddly, his limp disappeared when he goes out (damn his leg!). At least that meant he didn’t have to carry a cane as many times as before. 

After a few weeks, he felt a little more at ease. Nothing else seemed to be threatening him. Maybe he was overly suspicious about it. Some trouble-making kid could have just thrown a rock at the window. But, there was no rock. So that was out. Maybe something fell? No, he didn’t have anything that was near the windows. The more he thought about it, the more he felt apprehensive. 

John read a book near the fireplace back at his cottage. He felt cozy and warm and heard the fire crackling. It helped keep his mind off of the incident. Then he heard footsteps. He immediately ceased all of his current actions and listened closely. There were light footsteps outside the door, and they sounded more like clops. It must be an animal. It’d be best to just stay inside. 

He focused on the windows, looking out for the creature. He still heard the clopping, but it hasn’t walked toward the windows, yet. John decided to try to get its attention, subtly. He carefully tip-toed his way to one of the windows and tapped lightly on it. For a brief moment, there was silence, and then the steps came closer. He braced himself. Through the foggy window, he saw a man.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This has to be some kind of trick, right?

He was baffled, to say the least. This… man was half-naked (from this view), has unusual markings all over his body, some hair around his neck, short messy black hair on top of his head, and the most extraordinary feature, his antlers. Antlers? Is this man pulling off some prank or something? Because right now, it’s outraging John. This man was the reason he had become so paranoid about everything. He wrapped on his blue scarf and stomped his way out and prepared to make his long-winded rant.

“Look, you bastard, get out of this area. Right. Now,” He was about to continue when he saw that the man had… the legs of a deer. They were covered with a layer of brown fur. There was absolutely no way this was a trick after seeing those. “What the hell…” he mumbled under his breath. He took a step back, dumbfounded from everything he is taking in. _A man with antlers and deer legs_. What the bloody hell is going on… “Er, I take back what I said, if you can understand me.” This creature could ram into him with those impressive antlers anytime now. John prepared to pull out his knife, positioning his hand near his back pocket. “Can you understand me?”

“Lit-tle.” He took a few steps toward John.

He raised his eyebrows in astonishment. “Oh, that’s incredible. Quite, incredible.” He felt cornered as his back touched the wooden fence. “You live around here?” He tried to keep the creature occupied as he slowly sidled his way back to the door.

He nodded.

“Oh, okay. Um, do you have a name?”

“Sherlock.”

Sherlock. Very strange, but it suited him. “That’s a nice name. I’m John.” He was so close to the door…

“J… Jun… Jawn…”

“Yeah, that’s right. Um, I need to get back now,” He gave a smile and opened the door. He flinched when Sherlock went closer.

“Home?”

“Yes, home. This is my home. So, uh, I guess this is goodbye,” He was about to close the door when he heard Sherlock grunt. He turned back to him.

“Sorry.”

John was confused for a moment, and then remembered why he came out in the first place. “Oh, for the window?”

He nodded, looking down at his hooves as if he were a child who was guilty for something. “But not me. Brother.”

John did not expect this man to have a brother. He wondered if he were younger or older. Probably younger. “It’s alright. I fixed it,” He finally noticed that it was rather chilly, so he handed his scarf to Sherlock. He doesn’t need it anymore. “Cold, isn’t it? Here, just wrap it around your neck… no, not so tight! This will help you keep yourself warm. Take care, Sherlock,” And with that, he waved goodbye and went back inside. _Oh boy, he’s probably going to start coming back here plenty of times._


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John gets along with Sherlock.

John woke up with his limp acting up again. This bloody leg gives him problems at the wrong times. He carried his cane with him, went to use the bathroom and made some breakfast at the kitchen. He spread some jam on a slice of bread and poured milk into a cup. He sat down at the dining table and ate in peace, and then he heard tapping at the window. Suddenly, a flood of memories involving last night came rushing to him. Oh, how could he forget about it? He looked at the window. It was the same man from last night, Sherlock. He was still wearing the same blue scarf John gave him. Hm, interesting, he thought he would discard shortly afterward. Sherlock must know about sentimental value after all. John set down his food and exited the cottage. 

He smiled. “Good morning, Sherlock. I see you still have my scarf.” 

He cocked his head, furrowing his eyebrows.

John snorted. “I mean to say hello.”

Sherlock peeked behind John, examining the interiors of his home. He looked back at John. “In?”

He wasn't surprised Sherlock would want to come inside, but he was still doubtful. He bit his lip as he thought about it for a moment, before replying, “Alright,” He moved out of the way and watched Sherlock walk inside, inspecting the living room with wide, curious eyes. John closed the door and was startled when Sherlock quickly turned to him and hunched down slightly, softly growling. John realised that he practically let in a wild animal. “No, Sherlock, I’m not going to hurt you,” He lifted his hands up to shoulder height and backed up. This seemed to calm him down, however, he still seemed like he was about to pounce him. John really hoped he hasn't lost Sherlock’s trust. It has been a while since he last spoke with someone. “Look, if you want to go outside, just open the door, like this,” He grabbed the knob, twisted it to the right, and pulled it open. “See? Easy.”

Sherlock decided to give it a try and went up to the door. He wrapped his long fingers around the doorknob, getting the feel of it, and turned it. He pulled it and looked perplexed by this simple contraption. 

John had to remind himself to keep all doors locked since Sherlock pretty much knows how to break into his cottage now. “Hey, Sherlock, you hungry?” He caught his attention and showed him to the kitchen. “Let me make you something, okay?” He went to get some bread and jam and prepared the same breakfast he had recently. Then he remembered that he had leftovers on the table. He checked on Sherlock and saw that he was observing the bread on the plate. “Don’t eat that one, Sherlock. I’m making you another one,”   
When he finished, he brought back a plate containing the bread and a cup of milk. He saw that Sherlock hasn’t eaten the leftovers. “Here, you can eat this,” He set them down on the table. Sherlock picked up the bread and took a bite. John sat down and watched in fascination. How does this man exist? Maybe all of this was just a hallucination and kept him occupied. But no matter, as long as he was happy, everything was alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was supposed to end here, but then more ideas came to me. I still might continue this.


End file.
